


Hallelujah

by Miss_Lv



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Torture, Codependency, Curses, Dark Magic, Graphic Description, Hurt and comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Psychological Torture, Rape Aftermath, Torture, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9483740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Lv/pseuds/Miss_Lv
Summary: In which Newt is imprisoned with Percival and together they are tortured by Grindelwald and following that they must deal with the aftermath of surviving.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So the beginning and a good part of this fic has descriptive rape and torture. Please be cautious reading this! This is not a porn heavy fic, it got realistic and shit. Sorry Annon. Also shout out to the Harry Potter Wiki, bitch has been beyond useful writing these. 
> 
> On a side note, I busted my ankle like a twig! Upside is I spent most of the week pounding out fic while on delicious drugs. :D 
> 
> Also I suggest playing the song Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley while reading, I took a lot of inspiration from it and played it lots while writing.

The Cruciatus curse was like being set aflame. Percival imagined he could feel his skin burning away from his body each time it hit him. There was no thought of being strong and gritting through it like other methods of torture. There was only a searing pain that consumed everything else. A pain that could wring screams from any soul.

“You’re getting a bit boring you know,” Grindelwald pointed out idly, waving his wand back and forth as he circled Percival.

“If we keep going like this you’ll lose your mind and then I won’t have the answers I need.”

Percival pressed his face to the cold stone, reminding himself immediately of his duty to MACUSA. They had no idea a viper was in their mists and with the right information Grindelwald could destroy the entire organization.

It was a bizarre thing, to be tortured by a man wearing his face, smirking down at him with his own mouth.

When the wand pointed at him again he flinched, waiting for the pain. Grindelwald circled behind him before he cast it again, not letting Percival have that second to tense for the agony.

“It can stop so easily you know, just a few confessions and everything is over.”

Death.

Percival didn’t expect that he would leave this hell and he didn’t want to at this point. He just wanted the pain to stop and at this point only death could grant such a thing. He’d been tortured for so long, he’d long lost track of the days but he knew if he escaped his body would never completely heal. He’d seen it before, Aurors who survived but were shadows of their former selves, distrustful and hyper alert always, lingering pains and muscle spasms.

He just wanted it to stop.

“I think we need a new route here, don’t you?”

He never answered, never acknowledged the monster, not once in all the pain. Percival pressed his face to the floor and reminded himself of his duty, to protect. He would protect MACUSA. Despite wearing his face Grindelwald didn’t have full access, he didn’t know the passwords and safeguards around the vital information in the offices, he couldn’t access the sealed vaults of dangerous artifacts. Percival was well trained against Legilimency and his body taught to resist truth potions so Grindelwald had turned to more base methods.

But Percival would take those secrets to his death.

He would protect MACUSA.

Grindelwald cast a curse, words Percival couldn’t make out over the rush of anguish still burning his bones.

The footsteps faded and the light flashed brightly. He turned his head and watched his own body walk away, up the stone stairs to the only door out. The room was small, cold stone with a single light above. The stairs looked close, a few feet away but he knew they would move if he crawled to them. He’d spent days trying to reach them and they would just move future away. He crawled until his palms and knees bled but he never reached the staircase.

So he laid on the rough stone naked with manacles around his wrists to bind his magic, pain still echoing through his body. His left foot was smashed, his fingers in his right hand all broken and pulled out of joint and he was covered in gashes. He imagined there was internal damage as well; he imagined death would come soon.

But Grindelwald was a monster, always knowing just how much a body could take. He’d spelled the room so Percival couldn’t hurt himself as well. If he tried to bite his own tongue off or slam his head to the stone, his body was bound and left immobile until Grindelwald returned.

Sweat dripped down his brow, pooling on the cold floor. His whole body burned with it. Something different, a new sort of ache. Grindelwald liked to cast curses on him and leave him for hours or days. Percival pressed his head to the floor and tried to think of protecting MACUSA, he repeated it like a mantra.

Protect MACUSA.

He couldn’t track time, he didn’t know how long he was left there.

His body shivered, wracked with pain as sweat dripped down his skin steadily. He was painfully erect, his cock swollen and throbbing like a knife to his insides. It had been that way for so long now, making his body twitch with each new wave of agony.

Percival had broke and tried to masturbate already but it had done nothing.

A new humiliating torture, to rut against the stone with no relief.

Footsteps echoed, different. He tried to clear his mind and focus on why they were different.

Two people, not one.

“Oh my god,” a British voice breathed and suddenly someone was there, gentle hands touching his arm.

”Why?” the voice accused and Percival looked up, a young man, fair-faced with wide eyes staring at Grindelwald in horror.

“Mr. Graves has something I need,” he replied and Percival could see the man’s confusion and with a careful hand he pushed Percival’s hair from his face and examined him. Percival dug his nails into the stone, willing his body to lay still, willing himself to block the man out.

“Who are you?” He asked Grindelwald, body moving protectively over Percival as the monster with his face approached.

“Mr. Graves,” he called at Percival, voice amused and teasing as he ignored the other wizard. “Do enjoy yourself, I picked him out for you, such a pretty face on him, our Mr. Scamander.”

The British man was perplexed, watching Grindelwald.

“What’s happening?” He questioned, so painfully unaware.

Percival closed his eyes and focused on the pain, only the pain. He ignored the lust, pushed it as far away as he could.

Only the pain.

Protect MACUSA.

“A little help then?” Grindelwald spoke something, casting, and Percival tried to block out the spell, trying to pull away from the magic.

He wasn’t strong enough.

He grabbed Scamander’s coat and yanked him down, shoving him to the floor as Grindelwald laughed.

He wanted to stop, he wanted to desperately stop but his body ignored him, moving on its own. The lust was too much, the pain in his loins consuming him. He needed to stop it, needed the pain to stop if only for a second.

The poor man under him was baffled, fighting weakly as Percival tore his shirt open and yanked at his pants, pulling until fabric ripped.

 _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._ Words refused to come even as he chanted them in his mind.

He wanted to scream, to bite his own tongue.

Scamander seemed to catch on, eyes going wide as he tried to get away, hands pushing and clawing at Percival’s arms.

“Stop this, resist him,” he cried but Percival couldn’t, he couldn’t do anything but make the pain end.

They wrestled on the ground, Scamander was strong in his own right and panicked but Percival was a trained elite Auror. He pinned the man on his stomach, arms pulled and held against his back.

His backside was exposed and Percival climbed on him, shoving desperately.

Grindelwald circled them, watching with glee as Percival pinned the man down and forced his way into him. It was dry and it hurt but his body refused to listen. He thrust deeper and the man under him choked a cry. He just kept going, hands shaking even as they remained strong, holding his victim down. Some part of him knew what he was doing, some horrified thing in him howled but Percival couldn’t stop.

The man under him muffled his sobs as Percival raped him.

He kept going, shoving in over and over until he felt his body tense to climax. He rushed to the end, pumping furiously as he finally released.

The worst part was it felt good.

After so much pain for so long the pleasure was like a wash of cold water on a sizzling burn. No, that comparison fell short. It was so much more than that.

It was everything.

After days, months, years, he didn’t know, after pain for so long any enjoyment was everything.

He sobbed himself, shoulder shaking as he came, pressing as deep as he could. The climax was like a white light in the darkness, if was a few precious seconds of the agony being far away, the pain not the forefront for a single breath.

And then it faded and the horror sank in. He pushed away, falling off of his victim, his stomach heaving with bile.

Grindelwald smirked down at him.

“The passwords Mr. Graves?”

He closed his eyes and slumped to the floor pressing his head to the stone.

“I think you need a friend you know, someone to share the burden and what not.”

The Cruciatus hit him and he screamed.

Scamander howled with him.

 

Grindelwald left them both laid out on the stone beside on another. Scamander was curled up on his side now, hands twitching in the aftermath of the torture curse.

Percival stared at him, wishing he could do something, wishing he could just die. But now if he did, this poor man would die as well. The escape of death was tainted now; an innocent life would be taken because of him.

“Who is he?” Scamander whispered into the stone.

“G-Grindelwald,” Percival’s voice was hoarse and the word hurt in his throat.

Scamander closed his eyes, comprehending who had them finally, who was pretending to be the Director of Magical Security.

“He sent Tina to die, took my creatures, he’ll do something horrible to them,” Scamander breathed.

Percival watched him. He looked like a kind sort, a soft face, even broken as he was. He’d cut his lip open biting it at some point, blood ran down his pale chin, there were scratches on his cheek from the stone floor and his eyes were still red-rimmed from crying, faint tear marks on his skin.

Percival felt disgusted that even like that, he found this man attractive, that some terrible part of him might think he looked beautiful as he was.

“You’re Percival Graves?”

He nodded.

“Hullo, I’m Newt Scamander,” he offered and it was such a ridiculous thing to say. To make introductions on a stone floor after being tortured. It wrung a painful laugh from Percival.

Newt pushed himself up, pausing on his hands and knees to work through the hurt and then he sat up and looked around. He pulled his torn trousers back up and Percival wanted to vomit, revulsion turning in his gut.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he gasped and Newt blinked down at him, he crawled closer and softly pushed Percival’s hair off his face.

“Don’t be like that. You didn’t do this. You must know that. Grindelwald just put us through something terrible, not you,” he whispered.

Percival just closed his eyes and willed the pain to stop.

He listened to Newt shift around a bit and then get up and slowly move around. He inspected the cage and tried to touch the stairs. He limped the entire time, wincing with every step.

“I imagine those stairs will always move away?”

Percival nodded without looking. A touch made him jerk and he opened his eyes. Newt was dragging his coat over Percival's nude body. With infinite care, he inspected Percival’s hurts, taking in the damage.

“May I reset your broken fingers?”

He nodded his head and barely hissed out as each finger was pulled back into joint. Newt’s calloused hands were warm and held onto his own limp hand gently. He could feel the soft ebb of magic in the man, each time he fixed a finger he pushed a pulse of faint power through the bone, a gentle hum of healing. Not a trained healer but someone with knowledge of it. Percival’s very bones radiated pain but feeling the tender attempts to help him was a comfort in itself.

Newt set his hand down cautiously and moved to his leg, inspecting the breaks in his foot.

“I’m going to reset this as well, I’m not as good with these bones but I did get stepped on once and learned how to mend it,” he explained cheerfully. Newt described the story of some great beast accidently stomping his foot while he was out in a jungle with nowhere to go. He spoke in a steady soothing tone, voice warm and kind like a friend would be.

He tore the sleeve of his shirt and cleaned the worst of the gashes on Percival’s body, chatting the whole time. Percival didn’t understand all the words, his mind too numbed to pain but he the sound was nice, after the quiet and his own screams, Grindelwald using his own voice to taunt, the British accent was pleasant to listen to.

Newt finished looking him over and then laid down on his side, mirroring Percival and offering a weak smile.

“I cannot imagine what you have been through, but I would like to leave,” he explained softly, voice low and soothing. After the monsters mocking twisted laugh and threats for so long it sounded beautiful, that sympathetic tone.

“If you could help me, we might escape this terrible place?”

Percival didn’t want to escape. He wanted to die. But Newt Scamander didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve death.

“No way out,” he breathed and Newt frowned, looking around the room again.

“Well there is an obvious way out, we just need to figure out how to use it. I would imagine that only Grindelwald can use these stairs so we need to overtake him.”

Percival’s manacles clinked as he lifted his wrist and dropped it.

“They bind my magic,” he explained.

“Well I’m not bound, I can do a bit without a wand but that’s not much. We do have the element of surprise though,” Newt smiled, he laid back on the floor beside Percival, tucking a hand under his own cheek.

“We will escape, or, if I can be grim, we shall die trying alright?” He looked wide-eyed and foolish but there was a strength in his gaze. Percival imagined he thought the same in the beginning too.

He nodded his head, let Newt have his hope.

“May I see your binding?” Newt requested and Percival laid his arm out between them, watching the other wizard tenderly take his wrist and inspect the manacles, running a finger along them as he frowned.

 

The sweating started again not long after, Newt was talking about his career choice, going on about helping educated people about the true natures of magical creatures.

Percival could feel his limp cock twitching, his body slowly beginning to want again.

“What’s wrong,” Newt asked, pausing in his story, sensing something was off immediately.

Percival thought to lie but there was no point, he deserved to know.

“It’s happening again, the lust.”

Newt blinked.

“Ah, too much to hope that was a one-time thing then. I take it you will eventually lose control?”

Percival nodded, pressing the side of his face into the stone floor and trying to pull away from the situation, trying to close his mind.

Newt startled him, scooting a bit closer.

“Sorry,” he offered with an embarrassed wince as reached under his coat to cup Percival’s cock. It came fully hard in his hand but when he stroked it the pain only began.

“No good?”

Percival shook his head.

“Well he is good at his torture methods, I’ll give him that.”

Newt rolled on his back and pushed in trousers down and off. Lying on his back he spread his thighs out and licked his hand, smearing spit.

“What are you doing,” Percival felt a burst of strength that he used to lift his head and stare.

“Well, we need to have sex so I’m going to finger myself open. Spit isn’t the best method but we don’t have many options I’m afraid. You did spill in me earlier so that should help.”

Percival stared at him, loathing rolling through him at what Newt was preparing for.

“Please don’t look like that,” Newt requested, turning his head to look at him. “Your guilt is misplaced, you’re not doing this. Don’t give him that satisfaction. I imagine you are a kind man Percival, a good man. He brought me here to hurt you, I’ve nothing he wants. He brought me here because he knew making you force yourself on me was a way to torture you.”

Newt huffed, pausing to lick his own fingers again, moving them down between his thighs.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to work against him as much as I can.”

“Shall we just pretend I’m not going to rape you then?” Percival laughed hollowly.

“Certainly. You aren’t by the way. I consent fully.”

Percival managed another rough dark chuckle. “You can’t consent.”

“I certainly can, I’m more than willing, you are a handsome fellow,” he teased with a quick smile.

“I had a bit of a liaison with a fellow on the ship that brought me to New York. Gruff man but a delightful time. I’m still a bit loose even. We can work with that I suspect.”

“You’re a homosexual?”

“I am, are you?”

Percival closed his eyes. “It’s why he picked you.”

“Ah, make matters worse in a sense, to make it feel good. Did it? Feel good?”

He didn’t want to answer, he wanted to curl into a ball and die.

“Percival?”

“It did, it felt amazing, a moment… a moment when there was no pain.”

“See, all the more reason to go along with this then. I think I once read a dirty book like this, two men forced together in a prison together.”

Percival huffed a laugh, it hurt to move, but he couldn’t stop laughing. He gasped for air and laughed until his eyes burned with livid frustrated tears.

“We will get through this,” Newt offered with a determined smile and Percival managed to weak nod back. Such a compassionate man, he deserved to escape, to be free.

“I’m not very good on curses in general much less sexual ones. Will waiting make it worse or should be deal with it right away?”

Percival closed his eyes. “Soon is better, the curse is designed to hurt more with time, to force the victim to endure the pain and suffer or do the crime and suffer for doing it.”

“Shall we be criminals then?”

Newt pressed in close and Percival opened his eyes, watching the man edge a bit more towards him, inches between them as they laid out on the floor.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I would prefer to go about it like this,” he explained hesitantly before leaning in and pressing his mouth to Percival’s own.

It was a soft kiss, gentle and light. A pleasing touch and Percival wanted to cry. He was a hardened Auror but after so much pain something so sweet was magnified to a desperate degree.

He reached out, touching Newt’s arm and the other man moved closer, his knees touching Percival’s thighs, a hand on his chest. They kissed over and over and part of him only wanted that, an innocent contact. Comfort.

But the need burned and he broke the touch with a hiss, trying to ignore it as it rose in steady waves.

Newt’s hand touched him, pressing him onto his back. He felt fingers on his erection and the tight heat of Newt’s body slowly taking him in.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, barely managing words before he was shoving, hips slamming up. His hands grabbed at Newt’s thighs, taking leverage to ram up into the body above him. Newt’s hands rested on Percival’s stomach to hold himself up and he gasped out at Percival fucked into him.

Newt pushed back this time, rocking back onto Percival’s cock and participating. Percival could help but watch him. He rode with abandon, truly seeming to forget what was happening as he moved. He touched himself, a hand down his chest, pulling a nipple and then stroking his own cock. He was hard. Percival’s gaze locked on to his dripping cock and he watched Newt stroke himself.

It was horrifying to enjoy it, to take pleasure as he raped the man but he couldn’t stop. Newt looked good above him. He felt warm and tight and Percival slammed into him, he could feel himself rising and he cursed, pounding up as hard as he could, unable to move gently.

Newt whined high in his throat, dropping his chin down and blinking at Percival looking down into his gaze.

“Come for me,” he panted and Percival shivered as his body obeyed. The ache of his joints, the throbbing of his foot and fingers, the general pain throughout his body faded away and for a blissful moment nothing hurt. He gasped out and trembled, wanting to sob as it faded so fast, a blink and it was gone, fading out and the pain was there, rushing back in.

Newt moaned, hips still rocking, he hitched a breath and Percival felt warmth splatted on his stomach before Newt slumped, panting a bit.

“You came,” he blinked, staring up at the other man.

“I did say it wasn’t a hardship to have sex with you,” Newt replied lightly but there was a shadow in his eyes, the beginning of the fall. Percival wondered how long it took himself to give up.

Newt pulled off and laid beside him, tugging his coat back over Percival’s body. He dragged his pants back and slid into them.

“I’m going to try and sleep for a bit, gather my strength and what not,” he explained and he pressed a touch closed, resting his brow lightly on Percival’s bicep.

“Alright,” he replied uselessly, turning to inspect Newt’s messy hair. The man did seem to fall asleep, nudging in closer as his body shivered. Percival took the opportunity of Newt sleeping to stare openly at him. He mapped out the man’s faint freckles and inspected his long eyelashes; he traced the line of his nose and the bow of his mouth. It had to have been months since he saw someone else, since he felt another person touching him without malicious intent. He hadn’t realized how much he missed human contact until now, until Newt was pressed to his side, sleeping soundly.

Percival felt more for this man than some of his lovers from relationships years long. But that was the problem wasn’t it; it was a common torture method. Creating a connection in order to use it, to make Percival care and then watch Newt suffer.  

He already felt a new twist of dread when the footsteps echoed, he nudged Newt and the man blinked awake, yawning and then freezing at the sound of the footsteps.

“What a cozy little picture we have here,” Grindelwald greeted them.

Newt sat up, mouth opened to say something and then a scream poured forth. He hit the floor and twisted as Grindelwald pointed his wand down at him. Arcs of lightning poured from the tip, running along Newt’s body.

Percival would protect MACUSA. He repeated it in his mind as Newt sobbed and Grindelwald turned his wand on Percival, the current arching through his own body. A burning in his veins as he gritted his teeth and writhed.

Newt jerked up, hand out at their attacker and Grindelwald stumbled at some unseen force but he threw it off, turning back on the other wizard and casting Cruciatus on Newt again and again. He screamed so loud and the sounds rang in Percival’s ears, pushing away the soft voice and gentle touches.

Protect MACUSA.

“Come on now, we’ve barely begun,” Grindelwald sneered, grabbing Newt’s hair and dragging him. Percival tried to move, tried to get up but everything in him refused to listen, it had been a long time since he could stand anymore.

Grindelwald pulled Newt over to Percival, throwing him at him. Newt hit his chest and Grindelwald twisted his wand to position them, making Newt look up at Percival, making them face each other, chest to chest.

“If you think about it, Mr. Graves is the one doing this to you. All of this for a few passwords, for a few files that I’ll get either way in the end.”

Newt shook his head and then screamed, his back arching in agony. Grindelwald moved his wand like a whip and Newt sobbed and jerked each time, lashed by something unseen. Percival could smell burning flesh and he closed his eyes, trying to move away.

He would protect MACUSA, he would protect.

A hand grabbed his, trembling fingers linking into his own. Percival opened his eyes sharply and Newt was staring at him, tears running down his face. Percival clutched the hand in his tightly and Newt looked grateful even as he was whipped over and over.  

His back was a raw mess by the end of it, blistered skin in red lines all down his body. Some sort of burning curse in the lash marks.

Grindelwald forced Newt onto his back then and he hit Percival with the lust curse again, ramping up until he couldn’t think, until he couldn’t stop himself.

Newt sobbed with every motion, his torn back rubbing on the floor every time Percival shoved into him. Halfway through, he managed enough control to push an arm under Newt, lifting his back from the stone a bit. Hot blood seeped down his arm as he moved, his body driven by the curse as Grindelwald laughed.

“You know Ms. Goldstein begged for life as she died, she even made a plea for the beasts in your suitcase, a whole menagerie you had in there. Of course, they’ve all been destroyed.”

Newt cried out, a wail beyond physical pain and he shook his head in denial. Tears streaming down his face as he chewed his lip open again, blood running down his face.

“You see Mr. Graves? We can play this game all day. I’ll get bored of him eventually, once he’s broken to nothing. Then I’ll kill him and leave his corpse in the corner and bring in the next one. How many people will die because of you?”

Percival would protect, he would protect. If there was nothing else left of him, he would protect.

 

He tried to move away from the other man once Grindelwald was gone, wanting to give Newt space and privacy but the other man clung to him. He cried quietly as Percival held him in his arms, mindful of his bloody back.

“Do you think he really killed them?” Newt whispered some time later, when all his tears were dried out. It had to have been hours, the echoes of his quiet sobbing seemed burned in Percival’s ears. There was a desperate edge to his questions, a terrible fear in his eyes.

“I don’t know. If they had some use to him he would have kept them,” Percival offered honestly. He didn’t want to promise Newt something that was unlikely. Grindelwald might return with the dead beast’s corpses to mock him yet.

“We need to get out of here,” he whispered and Percival nodded, going along with it as he buried a hand in Newt hair and let him hide his face in Percival’s neck.

 

Newt refused to give up. Even as the time dragged on, six torture sessions, ten, twenty. Percival had no idea of days but he counted the torture since Newt arrived.

Each time after Newt would curl up into him, pulling Percival into the far corner and trembling in his hold. Percival held him obediently and even when they were dripping blood and covered in open wounds, they pressed together. Newt’s heartbeat was all the kept him sane after the worst times. A steady sure thump in his ear, shuddering breaths on his skin and the warmth of another person.

A reminder.

He had to protect. He barely recalled anything beyond that. He would protect, it was important, it was everything.

Protect.

Percival hated that some part of him was desperately glad to have Newt there, that he wasn’t alone. The Newt was being tortured with him.

Percival Graves was a powerful man, known to be demanding and somewhat rough. He had few relationships and even those were at an arm’s length. He had never wanted to get wrapped up in someone else, never wanted his work to suffer because of his heart. Now he was here because of his job, curled up and suffering and brokenly glad not to be alone. He never wanted to be alone again. Newt’s presence was more than anything else, more than his mind or his pain even.

They had sex when the curse threatened to overtake him and Grindelwald wasn’t there. When the monster was present it was a sickening thing. He’d lash Newt or Percival, cut or burn them up and make them hurt each other by the motions of the rape.

But when he was gone they would draw everything out, kissing and touching, hands holding each other close. It was precious and their only physical escape, moments when the pain could be ignored, when there was pleasure. Near the end Percival needed to be rough to satisfy the curse but they built up to it, like lovers would, like if they had been two men choosing to have sex together.

It was a fleeting time between them, always done too soon, and it was priceless. Percival wouldn’t want anything to replace it; there was no object or comfort that saved him more the Newt’s shaky smile and whimpering voice as he came.

Percival wondered if love felt something like this.

 

“I honestly think it’s the silence,” Newt mused, they were laid out their backs, head’s together as they stared at the black ceiling.

“Really?”

“Yes. The urine and dung in the corner can be ignored. Grindelwald cleans it away when he comes so the smell isn’t that bad. Honestly the smell of the burning flesh is far worse anyway. But when he’s gone I hate the quiet, nature isn’t quiet; something is always awake and about. Although I suppose I really do not like being unable to reach you, that might be the worst.”

“Reach me?” Percival turned his head and Newt smiled softly. He’d lost weight and his eyes were heavy with pain but they still had that spark.

“I like touching you. It helps. So I like knowing you’re close enough to touch,” Newt explained, reaching out and dragging shaky fingers over Percival’s cheek and brow.

“Me too,” he said, words were easy with Newt, there was no point in holding back anymore. They shared torture; they shared sex, they could share thoughts as well. Newt like learning things, he asked Percival about any and everything he could think about, storing it all away. Newt was now an expert on MACUSA’s laws and regulations, he knew every Auror’s name and rank, he knew which officials were helpful and which were fools. It turn Percival imagined himself a bit of an authority on the care of magical creatures now.

“I imagine my sanity would have broken by now. Grindelwald might have managed to get the information from me then.”

Newt hummed, looking back up at the ceiling again, still running his fingers through Percival’s hair.

“Dougal would be useful here, with being able to see the immediate future. I would like to know about the pain before it comes I think.”

Dougal, Pickett, the Niffler, and so many more, Percival knew them all now. Every physical aspect and personality trait, every known fact about their species. Newt talked about them for hours and hours. They were more than creatures to him, they were people, trusted and dear friends.

Percival found himself wishing that they were still alive somewhere, that Grindelwald lied when he taunted Newt with their deaths. With Tina’s death, simply because she had been with him.

The footsteps came and Newt shivered, turning to hide his face in Percival’s neck.

“Remember what we’ve talked about,” Percival whispered. “Just try and think of your suitcase, being inside it, far away from this. Go as far away as you can.”

Newt nodded his head weakly.

Percival would protect. He would protect.

“I’ve brought something fun for the evening,” Grindelwald announced, a box floating behind him.

Newt looked over at the monster and froze, his entire body going still in a way it never had before. Perceval turned to face Grindelwald and he saw… something. The air behind him and his box shifted strangely.

Grindelwald set the box down and something large inside it moved.

“I can’t decide if I want to see you get fucked by it or if I should make you kill it, the Aurors found it hiding in a No-Maj building.” he explained lightly.

He waved his wand and the box revealed a great massive snake-like beast. Occamy, Percival thought based Newt’s stories.

Newt was starting at it, eyes huge.

“What do you think Mr.Scamander, shall I make you choose? Fuck it or kill it?”

Newt was getting up on his knees and he trembled once and then lunged at the beast, he flat out moved to attack it and let out a loud wild sound as he did so.

Everything happened so fast.

Percival was shoved into the wall, the creature was screeching wildly. Suddenly it was massive, filling the room up and thrashing as it screamed.

“Pickett!” Newt cried as he pushed over to Percival. Grindelwald was slammed into the wall but he quickly shaking it off. Newt shoved a green leaf at Percival, yanking at his wrists.

Grindelwald howled in fury as some large white thing attacked his face, screaming and beating at him. Stopping him just as he had raised his wand to strike Newt down.

Dougal, Percival’s mind supplied.

Grindelwald had unknowingly brought Newt’s own creatures to him.

Newt stumbled as he frantically scrambled to move fast, tripping over the massive Occamy and trying to reach Grindelwald and the Demiguise as they fought.

“Newt, don’t!” Percival tried to get free to stop him, he could die, they would all die the second Grindelwald got control. Percival desperately did not want to watch the other man die.

Percival felt the first manacle on his wrist come undone and he froze. The plant, Pickett, jumped to his other wrist and after a moment the lock chinked open as well.

This would be the only chance.

Escape or die. Nothing else.

Dougal howled in pain as he was thrown away and Grindelwald pointed his wand to kill it just as Newt reached them and tried to defend the creature.

Percival put all the power he had in him behind it, every ounce of strength he had he used to attack Grindelwald. Slamming him hard into the stone wall and pushing him into it, trying to crush him into nothing. The dark wizard’s magic fought back immediately, so much stronger then Percival’s weak attempts.

Grindelwald managed to raise a hand from the wall and he called a thick chain from the box. It jumped to life and flung itself at Newt, curling around his neck and choking him.

Percival turned his power to force it to stop strangling the other man and Grindelwald’s power stuck him, staggering Percival as his vision flashed painfully and his concentrations broke.

Grindelwald pinned him to the wall now, pinning him up spread out and exposed.

He crossed the room furiously hand out as he began to cave Percival’s chest in.

“Keep your secrets then I’ll find other means to get them.” He snarled, eyes wild in his rage as Percival could feel his ribs snapping, pushing in on his organs which were in searing pain as they compressed in on themselves.

Grindelwald stared at him in glee and Percival stared back, not daring to look beyond him as Newt rushed to them.

He swung the limp chain with all his weight and he stuck Grindelwald on the side of the head with a vicious blow. Percival dropped from the wall, blood rushing up his mouth and down his chin as he managed to stay standing, leaning heavily on the wall.

Grindelwald went down but he wasn’t unconscious and Newt wrapped the chain around his neck and pulled it tight, throttling him.

Magic immediately slashed out but Percival stopped it, catching and deflecting everything so Newt could subdue him.

Grindelwald staggered and sank to the ground slowly, fingers grasping at the chain around his throat frantically. His legs kicked and he thrashed helplessly, the fight dying from his body.

When he slumped down, hands falling to the floor, Newt’s grip lessened. Percival stumbled to his side then, pressing his face to Newt’s hair as his hands wrapped around Newt’s and tightened the chain again.

Newt trembled but didn’t fight it.

He sobbed out only once and then steadied himself.

Together they strangled Grindelwald to death.

After all the pain, Percival couldn’t do any less. The thought of the man still alive somewhere would drive him insane. No jail had held him before and it wouldn’t now. The only real escape from him was death.

They held the chain far longer then needed, Grindelwald beginning to go cold.

“The door,” Newt whispered some time later and Percival blinked, looking up the long stairs to the doorway casting light.

They dragged the body.

It was a surreal feeling, looking at the stairs and expecting them to move when they got too close. But Percival set a foot on the first step and it remained, solid and whole.

The dead weight was almost too much for them, they were both wounded and frail. But there was no telling what would happen if they left the body. Dougal was helping, heaving the corpse up with them. The Occamy was just confused, slithering in the room with worried chirps.

“I am terribly sorry about that, but I wasn’t sure if he knew what you could do,” Newt told the creature as they worked. His voice was little more than a whisper, his neck still a violent red as he struggled to swallow now and then. When they paused for a breath Newt would pet his creatures, fingers in Dougal’s fur and gentle hands touching the Bowtruckle clinging to his bony shoulder.

“Let's leave this place,” Newt said cheerfully, his tone shivering with desperation.

“Please,” Percival replied, they shared a strange frantic laugh as they pulled the body up the last few steps and fell out the doorway. Newt called the Occamy after them, worried what would happen once they left the prison.

The light enveloped them and Newt’s frantic hand caught Percival’s wrist as they fell.

The ground greeted them, a lush carpet as they hit the floor in a heap. The beasts got up quickly but Percival’s body refused to move. Newt remained laying as well, panting and sweating from the stairs.

A small tin had been their prison, looking innocent on a table.

The Occamy filled the room suddenly, things breaking as it slithered around.

“N-Need a teapot and a bug,” Newt croaked and Percival already knew why, surely he was a magical creature expert in his own right.

“I’ve never appreciated carpets before... I d…do think this is the finest carpet I’ve even s…seen in my life,” Newt mused and Percival nodded. Sunlight was coming in from the windows, pouring the warmth onto them. It felt like heaven, even as the harsh brightness burned his eyes.

Everything was far too bright, enough that it hurt, a throbbing pain in his temples.

“W-Who are you?”

Percival turned his head and a young man with a bruised face was hiding in the doorway. Percival’s magic was depleted and his body too weak to even get up. Newt was no better, they were helpless.

Dougal gave a curious sound, moving towards the youth with no fear. The boy stepped back but didn’t run as the Demiguise approached him. He lifted his hand and offered out something in his palm the Percival couldn’t see.

“He’s trying to make f…friends with you, he’s really very peaceful, it’s not in his nat…ure to fight,” Newt offered as he pushed himself up a bit, slowly sitting upright. His voice was growing more hoarse and the livid red marks on his neck stood stark again this pale skin. Each breath he took rattled in his chest.

“We are in desperate need of help you see, and it w…would mean everything if you c…could offer that.”

The boy shrank in on himself. “I c-can’t. He won’t like that, he’ll be angry,” he moved as if to run but Newt slumped against a chair and the youth paused, staring at them. They were both naked and very clearly tortured, bleeding and bruised, bodies beginning to emaciate. Grindelwald had cast some sort of spell on them, they never ate or drank and felt the agony of hunger and thirst but their bodies never broke down as far as they should have. But after so long, they were beginning to waste away.

“He’s dead now,” Percival managed and the boy jerked at his voice. “He’s right here,” Percival kicked the dead body laying face down at their feet.

“He can’t hurt you now. He hurt us too. Right now we need… we need mercy. Are you able to try that for us?”

“It would be… wonderful if you could,” Newt added softly. Dougal had returned to him and was pressing grapes at his chapped and torn lips. The creature had a fruit bowl in his arms and was trying to feed Newt.

“I…I don’t know how,” the boy choked, sliding down the wall to hide his face. “I don’t know what to do, how to help.”

“You merely need to contact a healer for us,” Newt explained, voice still strained as he struggled to talk.

“I don’t, I don’t know how too. I don’t know, I’m not special, I’m not a wizard.”

“That’s fine,” Percival rumbled, forcing his body to sit up as well. He reached out for the chair Newt was against and dragged a throw blanket down and over the other man.

Percival had just realized where they were.

His own sitting room, inside his own home.

“All you need to do it bring me something, something right here on the shelf,” he explained. He couldn’t get up, he couldn’t walk but he would drag himself over if he needed too.

“We understand that… it’s hard,” Newt gasped, hand on his throat. “He was… a terrible monster wasn’t he?”

The boy hugged his knees and nodded.

“He’s dead now though,” Percival repeated, he didn’t feel frustrated at all. If the boy was in Grindelwald’s care then he had suffered just as they had.

“Could you just bring me that bowl, that red bowl right there?” A portkey, a direct escape to Percival’s sister’s house.

“He said if they found me they would kill me, that I’m a monster. I…I can’t be found,” dark shadows shook the room, black smoke pouring off the boy.

Fuck, could nothing be easy?

“Ah, you’re the reason he was interested in O-Obscurus,” Newt sighed, he was leaning against the chair and seemed to struggle with staying awake. Outside the prison, Percival realized that any spells keeping them alive were gone now.

“It’s ok to be... afraid,” Newt wheezed. “But it’s also…im…important to try. Could you do that?”

Newt’s voice was fading, every time he blinked his lids took longer to rise. His chest heaved with shuddering breaths and Percival felt a new fear twist in him. He pushed his body, he was used to pain now, the pain was constant at this point.

“Newt, wake up,” he hissed, trying to reach him, he couldn’t do anything but if he could just reach him.

“Just…t’red,” came a weak reply. Dougal was making worried sounds and Pickett was tapping Newt’s face urgently.

“Newt,” Percival wrapped an arm around him and pressed the limp man close. “Wake up,” he tried to coax.

Newt sighed and pressed his face to Percival’s neck, relaxing against him.

“Newt.”

Percival couldn’t feel him breathing, couldn’t hear the thump of his heart.

Something crashed but Percival didn’t hear it properly, trying to hear Newt’s heart.

He needed to hear it.

“H-here,” the youth whispered, stumbling to their side and offering out the portkey.

Percival grabbed it immediately.

The magic jarred him badly and when they arrived blood splattered up his throat and down his chin, his insides heaving painfully.

Something shattered and he looked up, his sister standing in the hall with a wide horrified gaze.

“H…Help him,” Percival gasped, the room blurring as the darkness took him. He let it come, willing to give up the light, as long as Newt was ok.

Percival had to protect him.

 

Percival woke in a bed, blinds down to block out the painfully bright daylight. His vision was dazed, unable to come into proper focus.

He could hear Newt crying but when he reached out for him there was nothing.

Percival understood something was off, something had changed but his mind was too heavy to understand what, to even care.

He pushed to the end of the bed, struggling to move as sleep tried to pull him back down. It felt like claws pulling at his body as he forced himself up, the world shifting dizzily. Pain lashed through his leg when he put it down and he gritted his teeth as he stood. Sweat was gathering on his brow from the simple act of rising up but he pushed on, his steps unsteady as he made his way across the room, the door seeming so bloody far.

Newt whimpering and so he pushed on.

The hall was empty and confusing but Newt’s scared sounds drew him to the next door, pushing it open and leaning on the doorframe.

Newt was in the bed, looking so small among the stark white sheets and heavy covers. His face twisted in a pained sleep, body thrashing.

Percival stumbled at the foot of the bed, struggling for breath as he managed to force himself up once more, just a bit more.

Newt’s tiny broken sound died when he reached him, flopping down on the bed gracelessly. The other man didn’t wake but he stopped moving slowly, turning towards Percival in his sleep. He pressed a shaky hand to Newt’s messy hair and settled against his chest to finally let sleep take him again to the reassuring sound of Newt's steady, if frantic, heart.

 

When he woke again it was night and he was painful hard.

His mind was clearer now and he pressed his face into the pillow under, fighting to remain passive.

The lust curse was still within him.

He wanted to sob like a child, to just break finally.

“Percival,” Newt whispered, voice so soft as if he feared to be caught. Hands touched his chest, moving up to cup his face, Newt’s long bony fingers reassuring him.

“I need it,” he hissed, a stray tear on his face. All that time of pain and he never cried. But here in a bed, safe finally, he couldn’t seem to stop it.

“It’s ok,” Newt replied, sounding so certain and Percival wanted to believe him. He wanted to so very badly.

“Come on,” he urged, leading Percival’s hand to his hip. Newt was in a dressing shirt and he pulled it up easily, rolling on his back and tugging Percival to move over him.

He pressed his face into Newt’s neck and shivered, the other man stroking his back as if he were a boy waking from a nightmare.

Newt reached out to the side of the bed, something glass clinking delicately. His hand was slick when he returned, carefully caressing Percival’s length, aware that it was painful to be touched. Then he was between his own legs, working quickly.

“It’s ok,” he breathed over and over, pressing his cheek to Percival’s hair as he lined them up.

It had been too long.

Once he felt the warm heat Percival pushed roughly, forcing a pained sound from Newt. He wanted to apologize but the words were lost in the need, the pain licking at his body, urging him on faster, harder.

Newt sucked in quick uneven breathes as he held to Percival, hands far too tender as Percival rutted into him, fucked him callously.

He finished with a cut off breath, feeling the high of his release and then the great flood of disgust and shame that followed. It choked him, his own revulsion.

“I want to die,” he confessed, shaking as he tried to pull free from Newt. “I wish I was dead.”

Newt’s hands tangled in his hair and pulled his head, grip tightening when he didn’t move obediently. He yanked Percival’s head to his own and pressed their foreheads together.

“Please don’t say that. Please. I don’t…I don’t think I can do this if you say such things. And I need to be strong, I need to survive. Please don’t talk like that, I can’t, I just can’t stand to hear it. Not now, not when we’re so close.”

For the first time since everything began Newt looked on the verge of falling, his eyes wet as he looked up at Percival, scared in a way nothing Grindelwald had done to him had caused him to show before. As if a single wrong word would break Newt into a thousand pieces.

Percival nodded his head. Unsure, but willing to try, if only for Newt. Anything for him.

“Promise?” Newt pressed relentlessly and Percival nodded again, accepting a chaste kiss that Newt pressed to his mouth. A soothing contact, he returned it easily enough, recalling days of pressing his mouth to Newt’s skin in the aftermath of torture.

“We are more than this, he doesn’t get to win,” Newt breathed, talking more to himself than Percival, shaking so hard as he clung to him, pressing his face to Percival’s chest.

“We are more.”

Percival would protect, he would protect.

 

He woke again with the sunlight pouring in from cracks in the blinds, casting a yellow hue on everything. Percival’s mind was the clearest is had been since they had escaped, waking fully.

The first thing he registered was being clean.

His body was scrubbed of grime, his hair wasn’t clinging to his skull, his mouth wasn’t rank, he was clean.

He was laid out in a lush bed, on clean crisp sheets in his sister’s home, in a guest room. Newt was beside him, sleeping deeply still. He too was clean and his skin glowed, he looked like an angel laid out on his white pillow, face relaxed in slumber. He truly was a gorgeous man.

The door creaked and Percival’s relaxed body went ridged, swinging his gaze to see who it was.

His mind knew it couldn’t be Grindelwald, he was dead.

He was dead.

But something in him knee jerked, tensing for pain.

Morgan stood in the door, her long hair pulled from her face and into a braid, she was dressed in her healer robes and carrying a tray of potions. He watched her see him and carefully not react, her face crumpling only for a moment before she took control. She walked over to the dressing tables and set the tray down before going to him.

Settling on the edge of the bed she leaned over and hugged him, her grip was careful but she held herself so stiffly, trying to restrain herself. Percival raised a weak arm around his little sister and hugged her until it hurt, pressing her into his body roughly and she slumped against him after a moment, sucking in a single shaky breath. After a long pause she sat back and smiled steadily at him.

“Hello,” she greeted softly and he nodded.

“Thank you,” he rasped, trying to put into words how good it was to see her, to be there with her, to just see her. He’d been so sure he never would see her again. Percival had never realized how much he loved his family, not until he thought they were going to be taken away from him. Most knew they loved their family but few realized the depth.

Morgan just smiled and wiped her eyes quickly.

“You’ve been sleeping for a long time, getting lazy,” she teased. “You and your _friend_ ,” she lifted a brow at the term. It had always been easier to refer to his male lovers as mere friends. Their father so ridged and concerned with the bloodline. The word friend prevented fighting, it kept his father’s disappointment at bay and his mother’s chin from trembling. Percival was willing to use it if only for that, even if Morgan never understood. Now as adults these problems were long faded but Morgan liked to pick at it, never one to leave anything alone.

He managed a weak smile for her attempts to be light, lifting a hand to cup her soft cheek.

“I’ve always thought you so strong, so brave and bold, I wanted to be more like you some days.”

Morgan blinked and her gaze turned wet again. “I always knew I was the better one,” she tried to tease, her voice missing the right tone.

“Always,” he replied, not rising to the bait. “I was so… scared I would never see you again, that you wouldn’t know how much I admired you, loved you.” He fumbled in a rush. Feelings were not talked about in the Graves family, a nod and smirk was how they expressed and it seemed so utterly stupid to look back on. He wanted his sister to know exactly how he felt, he needed her to know.

“I already knew, I always knew,” she replied fighting her emotions down.

“Enough of this, you’re making me weepy. We need to have a very serious chat now that your mind is clear.”

She pushed up from the bed and went to the potions tray, carefully pulling the stoppers and mixing them.

“The evening after you arrived we received word you had died, that your body had been found in your New York home. I’ve never cared for your job and all its secrets but even I knew something was going on. Mother and father were so angry when I refused to come into the city,” she paused, glaring at one of her bottles. Morgan lived out in the country, in a massive house that had been in their family since MACUSA had been founded.

“I was scared to send them a message with the truth in case someone was looking for you, so I only told them to come out. It took them a week to get here; mother was a mess of course, weeping all over the place dramatically. Even before I told them you were alive.”

She brought a potion over, a green liquid with gold swirling through it. Tipping his head off the pillow with a steady hand she helped him drink it down.

“After that father and Robert agreed that it was best no one know you were here. Between Robert and my own healer knowledge, we managed to treat you both. Credence and his Obscurial have been a bit more of a challenge but father called in an old friend to help. Newt has also provided precious information when he’s been able to.”

Percival turned to look at the other man, still sleeping on peacefully.

“How is he?”

“Fine, in body at least, he was easy to heal compared to you. A lot of your bones had to be broken again to realign them properly and you had a terrible infection in your thigh. But everything is fine now.”

Percival didn’t bother to argue that. Nothing would ever be fine again. Even now he could feel the echo of the Cruciatus in his bones. He knew from previous study that it would never fade completely.

Morgan nudged his chin with her finger, making him look away from Newt and back to her.

“He woke clear a week ago, explained what he knew. The poor man is jumpy and a nervous mess at the best of times, but he's insisting he always was before everything. He’s eating solids now and he can sit up on his own. His body is mending quickly but he’s refusing to forget.”

“Forget?” Percival echoed.

“A mind healer. Father brought him in as well to help lessen the memories. You’ve both had terrible nightmares and panic attacks. Newt wasn’t sleeping without heavy potions until you moved into his bed. A mind healer would help,” she explained, looking over to Newt with a worry in her eyes.

“We just want to help you both however we can at this point.”

Percival nodded, he’d only laid there and listened but he felt exhausted again, sleeping trying to drag him under.

“What happens now?” He managed to ask.

“You get better,” she replied quick and firm. “Newt’s brother showed up in New York months ago. Officially Newt had been executed and his brother showed up in a blaze of fury. The Ministry or Magic was involved and everything seemed to blow up, there was a talk of war.” Her face twisted with worry, eyes looking back to some past moment.

“Theseus Scamander was forced to return to England officially but everyone knew he was still around. He was certain something was happening, he seemed to know Newt was still alive. Newt told me they shared spells to mind each other’s health so Theseus did know perhaps. When you all arrived we tried to track him down. Weeks later we’ve finally gotten proper word to him. I imagine he’ll arrive in a great big fuss any day now.”

Percival wanted to ask more, to try and piece everything together until the picture was clear but his vision started to lose focus and he frowned at his sister’s empty potion bottle.

“Sleep,” she commanded him, tucking the blanket up around him again.

 

Percival woke again in the night, the need burning through him again. Newt was sitting up in the bed, a book in his lap with a low light on the table flickering. He smiled down at Percival at first but then seemed to understand what was happening.

He hesitated. Something in his face worried. Percival wondered if he would leave now, escape this terrible thing. He would not blame Newt, not fault him.

Newt looked over and laid out on a couch that hadn’t been there, was a sleeping man. With an embarrassed look, Newt reached to the nightstand and drew his wand, whispering a soft silencing charm and spelling the curtain of the bed to close.

Percival wanted to ask who it was but the need was stronger. Newt, a clever soul, caught that right away and he moved quickly. He pushed the blankets down and rolled to straddle Percival, laying him out on his back.

There was a small clear bottle on the stand and he used it to slick himself. Fingers pushing hurriedly. Percival wanted to slow him, wanted to let him adjust but he couldn’t, he hated that his control was lost, that his choice was taken.

Newt sank down on his lap and his gritted his teeth, closing his eyes as he took Newt’s hips and shoved up into him. It was tight and warm, a perfect sensation to fight the ache moving through his body. Percival tried to go slow but the curse refused to let him.

He slammed up and in, rushing to find relief.

Newt leaned over him, a hand on his shoulder and Percival opened his eyes, watching the other man smile at him, face flushed red. He pressed a soft kiss to Percival’s mouth and rolled his hips, pushing back to meet each thrust.

Biting his lip, Newt reached a hand between them, stroking himself as he rode Percival. The rise came quickly, his fingers digging into Newt’s flesh as he hissed and came, feeling that twisted bliss. Newt kept moving, shoving down a few more times before he whimpered, a soft breathless sound as his back arched and he went stiff as he came.

He pressed his face to Percival’s chest and huffed, relaxing slowly and carefully sliding off of him, he summoned a warm cloth and cleaned them before pushing their sleeping shirts down as he curled into Percival’s side with a little sigh.

Percival pulled him close with his arm, turning to rest his chin on Newt’s head.

The bottle of sex slick sat on the night table innocently. It had been weeks since they had arrived, months even, Percival wasn’t sure. But it had certainly been more than enough time.

“They can’t break the curse,” he stated calmly, not betraying the despair filling his chest.

“Theseus has called in someone from Britain, a curse break, one of the best in the world,” Newt offered rubbing his cheek on Percival’s chest.

“And if they can’t?”

“Then we manage along. H-Honestly its not so bad,” Newt lifted his head to rest his chin on his hand and peer up at him. “There are variations that would require you to find virgins each time, or to kill them after, to seek out people and m-murder them.”

Newt huffed and offered a weak smile. “He cursed you to love Percival, he wanted to take something good and make it terrible. There’s no reason why we have to let it be like that, our time when he wasn’t there proves that.”

It hurt each time. The curse burned through his blood but Percival understood what Newt was doing, trying to make the best of it. He could lay there and wave his fist at a dead dark wizard or he could move on, it was clear where Newt wanted him to go.

“Morgan said you won’t let them ease the memories,” he said instead of continuing to talk about the curse. He reached up and pushed hair from Newt’s brow so he could meet his gaze properly. “You should let them.”

Newt shrugged and looked away, eyeing the sheets for a long moment. “I’m s-scared to forget, that they’ll take the wrong thing.”

“Wrong?”

“I’m afraid I’ve become rather attached to you,” Newt offered with a weak chuckle. “I draw a great amount of comfort from you, if they take memories, I might… I might lose that.”

The calm certainty around Newt faded momentarily, his shoulders shivering as he glanced at Percival, a very real fear in his gaze. He could play the role well, smile in all the right ways but to Percival he showed the cracks, all the places that threatened to shatter if pushed the wrong way. On the edge of breaking.

“I imagine they would be very good at avoiding that. The healer is coming to help ease my memories tomorrow, you should let him work on you, even to just dull them.”

Newt nodded, eyes blinking wet as he tried to gather everything back in. He sat up slipping his smile back in place.

“My brother arrived yesterday,” he announced, moving the curtain back and looking over to the sleeping man Percival had forgotten. “Tina, Queenie, and Jacob all came with him.”

Newt carefully settled back down on his side, facing Percival.

“It’s the most amazing thing. Queenie knew T-Tina was in danger and she staged a daring rescue. They both escaped and they,” Newt paused, his voice overcome with emotions. “They took my suitcase... with them.”

“He lied,” Percival realized, dragging in a breath and feeling something light and jubilant breath into him. Grindelwald had not killed Newt’s precious beasts.

“Yes. He lied,” Newt replied tucking his head on Percival’s shoulder, shivering a touch. “Jacob, he did amazingly Percival. A Muggle, or whatever you call him, he helped me feed them once before I was taken, just once, and he kept doing it. He helped hide the girls and he read my notes and he, he took care of them, of my creatures. For months.”

Newt trembled a bit, breathe hitching as he struggled not to cry.

“He had no reason too, he didn’t know me. But he took care of them, protected them when I couldn’t. Theseus found Dougal in New York, hiding with the Occamy as well, Pickett too. He brought them all here. Everyone’s safe. After all that… that terribleness, everyone’s safe.”    

Newt talked on for a long while, voice bright and warm, soothing Percival, until he couldn’t stay awake any longer. Then, he dimmed the light and curled up against Percival, content to sleep.

 

The mind healer visited the next day. Percival saw first hand how Newt would go shy and nervous with strangers. Morgan never let anyone in their room, keeping it a quiet place and it was clear why now. Newt kept his gaze on his hands and mumbled his answers to the healer, constantly glancing at Percival as if to reassure himself he was still there. But thankfully, Newt allowed the healer to help him as they did Percival.

They took the pain, the burn of each torture and faded it, as if Percival was present but not the one being tortured. The memory was there but the pain wasn’t. It echoed in his body though, a distant memory of agony. But without the full recollection, the ache was easier to deal with. Newt stopped needing potions to sleep, even weak ones. He woke with his nightmares still but Morgan seemed relieved it was only that. With time they would fade as well.

 

A strange sort of Platypus was sitting on his chest when he woke. It blinked down at him, as if just noticing it was sitting on someone.

“Come here you,” Newt grumbled, picking it up and setting it in his lap. It was when they were alone for long stretches that Newt seemed at his best, his meekness fading and his stumbling words smoothing out.

Tiny green Bowtruckles covered Newt’s shoulders, peeping away at him. Dougal sat on the bed as well, petting Newt’s hair. The man smiled down at Percival with a touch of embarrassment. But it was clear that he was overjoyed.

“Introduce me, I know all their names but it feels like we should meet proper,” Percival yawned and Newt lit up in delight.

 

The beasts were usually around after that, sleeping on the bed or tucked somewhere in the rooms. Morgan wore a hassled look about her for it but she reported with a sigh that her children were beside themselves with joy.

“Jacob is good with them, teaching them about each one and keeping the dangerous ones clear. It’s educational I suppose.”

Percival didn’t ask about the house, he heard enough things breaking and people hollering throughout the day to have a good idea.

 

Percival slept and healed and people began to visit more.

His parents came by each day, his social mother chattering about various happenings in the city. She laughed and talked easily but she always held his hand in a too tight grip.

His father was more reserved but also a steady and sure presence. He asked how Percival felt each day and listened carefully to the answer. He used every connection he had to assist when he could. He had never done such a thing so readily before but now he did it freely, trying to look after not only Percival, but Morgan too. While he had always been distant to Percival's sexuality, he was unendingly kind to Newt and that meant more than Percival could put into words.

 

Tina came and sat beside the bed and apologized until her voice was hoarse. She had thought something was off with him, with the man pretending to be him, many of the Aurors had noticed but no one had acted. They had all grown too comfortable in their certainty and power.

Eventually, it came out that Percival Graves was not dead, that Grindelwald had been masquerading as him for months. MACUSA was working now to try and repair itself. Everyone newly hired was let go and everyone shifted into different positions or transfers was set back into their original areas. Tina was given her proper job back. Everyone was required to prove who they were. The entire vast building was being searched; every little room and closed drawer was being checked. It would take them years to finish going over the damage.

By some faint blessing, Grindelwald had been mainly concerned with Credence and hadn’t implemented anything truly destructive. It was clear he had been shifting the security, weakening it and placing his own people into positions of power. Eventually he would have crippled the security of MACUSA but he’d died before he could have set about anything devastating.  

But there was damage and now it needed to be cleaned up. A new Director of Security was appointed. It should have mattered more Percival supposed. His job had been everything for so long but now he was content to just watched Newt, settled in the window seat with his Occamy, the sunlight in his hair as he smiled down at them fondly. Jacob, the No-Maj was full of stories of the beasts and Newt eagerly drank them down, enchanted when Jacob presented him with a journal he kept, in case he forgot anything.

Newt hugged the man tightly and seemed eternally grateful to him, always bright and happy to see the other man. Jacob, in turn, was flustered but good-hearted, talking himself down despite the extraordinary thing he had done.

Percival would speak with his father eventually about giving the man some sort of financial reimbursement. It seemed to fall short in the wake of Newt’s elation but Percival wanted to offer his own gratitude as he could. Newt took a great deal of comfort in his beasts; he truly looked at peace as he sat with them.

Jacob would leave for England soon, Queenie going with him. A love had bloomed and so they wanted to go where they could be together. Britain would allow them to marry while America would see Jacob Obliviated for his great deeds. The laws were in place for a reason, but there should be exceptions, Percival could see that now. The laws used to be black and white to him, ridged and meant to be enforced. Now they were shattered, shades of gray and filled with exceptions and circumstances.

He supposed that in the end he wouldn’t make a good Director of Security anymore.

 

The Niffler sat on his lap, going through its treasures, shiny bits and pieces of Morgan’s home in it’s never ending pouch. The creature had taken a liking to Percival simply because he never tried to take anything back. It seemed foolish to fetch the same bloody watch over and over each day. So he let the little troublemaker examine his bounty.

It gave him something watch, trying to place each trinket and where it had come from. Many of his family’s heirlooms that were small enough had been discovered and snatched. Shiny knobs and bits or trash were there as well.

“If I asked, would you grab him?” Newt sighed from the doorway and Percival shrugged, rubbing a fingertip on the Niffler’s head and watching it blink up at him. They both knew the beast was safe, the beast itself knew it.

“A terrible Auror,” Newt sniffed in reply, carrying a basket and settling it on the bed with care.

“I had no idea the Swooping Evil was carrying eggs! Jacob nearly fainted when he found them,” he cheered, peering at the five little eggs with wide eyes. The creature itself was curled up in its cocoon with it’s young. All of them covered and cradled with a fine straw.

“When will they hatch?”

Newt sat back on the bed, leaning his head on Percival’s shoulder as he explained the Swooping Evil’s incubation period and what to expect once they hatched. Talking about his creatures never failed to bring a brilliant light into Newt’s eyes, his knowledge was truly staggering as well. His book would change how many creatures were seen one day.

Percival watched the Niffler sort and listened to Newt talk, letting the calm and the sunlight and fresh breeze from the window wash over him. The ache in his bones remained but in moments like these, Percival barely felt anything beyond content.

 

Newt’s parents were coming in a few days time, eager to see him after believing him dead. They had already spoken at length via the Floo Network and it was clear that Newt was very dear to his parents. To his brother as well, Theseus was a loud commanding man who only came to a stop under Newt’s hand. He watched his younger brother with such open worry, following him likes his beasts did as Newt began to walk around the grounds. They reinforced the wards of the manor, Percival’s father and then Theseus, weaving spell after spell to defend them.

Percival and Newt had killed Grindelwald and once the story broke, dark wizards would come looking for revenge.

That was what helped Percival work to regain himself, slowly walking each day and casting magic again. He needed a cane for his bad foot, he might always need it, but he could walk, he could jog and run eventually. His body filled out again, putting on weight as he ate healthy meals. Newt took longer on that front, very slowly coming back from the bony form their imprisonment had given him. Morgan made him drink extra potions with each meal, fussing over him endlessly. She had clearly adopted Newt as her own, determined to make him as healthy as possible. Newt struggled with sitting around a full table at times, head ducked constantly. But Percival would lean down a bit to catch his gaze and Newt would smile sweetly. He assured Percival it was nothing new, that he’d always felt a bit overwhelmed by people since he was a boy. It only endeared Morgan to him more and she fussed over him terribly as she did with Credence. Her skills as a healer had been proven time and time again, both her and her husband Robert.

Her skills as a healer had been proven time and time again, both her and her husband Robert.

Together with Newt guiding them, they had split Credence from his Obscurial safely. It was the first record of such a thing ever happening successfully. Newt had smiled all evening afterward, a content joy at saving the boy.

But Credence had been used by Grindelwald and the MACUSA might not show him mercy, not when they were still shaken by the dark wizard’s infestation. So Theseus swooped the young man away one day, taking him off to Britain to find someone to help him. They weren’t certain how strong his magic would develop once it returned but he would need help. Percival heard last that a professor from Hogwarts that both Theseus and Newt trusted had taken the boy under his wing.

Morgan was sad to see him go, hugging him tightly and making him promise to write to her. It was clear both her and Robert had taken to the boy. One day he might be able to return to them and both promised he would be welcomed. The poor youth looked overwhelmed with it all.

Once he was off and Percival and Newt were up on their feet, his sister finally had time to breath. It was good to see her relaxing, sitting out on the lawn with her children. Percival was settled on the porch taking in the sunlight and vast endless skies. He had a book in his hands but the sky was far more captivating, bright and blue and open in a way he had never appreciated before. He wanted to fly again soon, touching the clouds and feeling the world miles below him. Open and free.

The floor creaked and he felt that pinprick of tension, always expecting Grindelwald to be there, even after months. To see his own face with a twisted glee in his eyes. Percival had trouble with mirrors still, Newt did his shaving for him happily. He explained that he never looked at Grindelwald when he tortured them, he only looked at Percival and thus there was no fear when he looked at him, no burned in fear.

Percival struggled with these things, with the fear that the monster was back at each sound, every time someone approached.

But Theseus was there instead.

He was a good man and a strong Auror, powerful and devoted to Newt in a way Percival could respect. But he seemed to frown at Percival, watching him with a certain grimness.

“Feeling better?” The man offered with an easy smile and Percival nodded.

“I won’t ever be as strong as before but I will grow close to it.”

“Your sister is truly amazing, her healing skills are beyond compare.”

Percival nodded his head in agreement, waiting for the point to come out.

Theseus seemed to pick up that.

“My parents arrive soon, they're eager, Newt is too, he’s always been the family baby.” The man sat on the rail of the porch facing Percival with a bleak sort of calm.

“We hope to convince him to come home, to heal the rest of the way there. He won’t hear it of course, won’t even let me talk about it. With your curse… he refuses to go. But the curse isn’t tied to him, it doesn’t have to be him. He wants to stay with you though, very stubborn when he wants to be.”

Percival imagines it was that stubbornness that helped them survive. When he had nothing left, Newt was still strong, still trying.

“If you would ask him to go, he would.” Theseus finally admitted, the point reached.

Percival didn’t even get his mouth open to reply.

“What are you doing?” Newt hissed and his voice was a shocked fury that Percival had never heard from him before.

Theseus jerked up, caught and clearly surprised with Newt’s tone as well.

He came up from the grass, bare feet stepping fast, pounding movements to his brother, face red in anger.

“What are you doing?” He demanded again.

“Newt,” Theseus began but his little brother cut him off.

“You don’t get to decide everything for m-me, I’m not a child! Why would y-you do this?” He asked the second part with open hurt, his eyes filling with tears that he struggled to blink away.

“I want to help, that’s all I want, Newt.” His brother hurried to claim.

“You weren’t t-there Theseus,” Newt snapped, more riled than Percival had seen him before. It was a strange reminder of how little they really knew each other. Bound so tightly in only months. It felt like years, like Newt had been at his side since he was a boy.

Theseus flinched eyes dropping and going dark. “I know that,” he breathed, voice twisted with a pained regret. “Don’t you think I know that Newt? That I failed you, if I’d caught him sooner, if I’d been there...”

“That doesn’t matter. All that matters is Percival was there. He held my h-hand, he talked to me after… after,” Newt’s voice choked, he clamped a hand over his mouth and his tears fell.

“Why would you take that away? The only thing I have, had, the only c-comfort there was.”

Theseus looked stricken and Percival pushed up from his chair, mindful of his bad foot as he went over to them and carefully touched Newt’s shoulder, making the other man look at him.

“I was going to explain to your brother that unfortunately, there was no possible way that I would agree to such a thing,” Percival told him. Newt’s shoulders slumped, he turned his face and buried in Percival’s shoulder. “I can promise you that I won’t ever be willing to leave you.”

“Sometimes I think you’re the only reason I can sleep,” Newt confessed quietly. “I’m scared to sleep, scared to wake and find out this is all his games. That it’s not real. I had just spoken about Dougal and he was suddenly there. What if it's not real and this is his new game? We’ll be back on the stone floor in the dark and Tina will be dead, my creatures will be dead.” Newt pressed his face to Percival’s neck and shook.

Theseus looked down at the floor, face twisted in misery.

“I know,” Percival admitted. “I still expect him around every corner. Only time can help heal these things I believe.”

“Morgan said so too.”

“But if going home will help you,” he continued and Newt went stiff against his shoulder. “We can.”

 

They did.

Percival loved his family but staying with them was slowly working away at him, the fear of putting them in danger. His parents had stayed at the manor and neither were trained Aurors. Morgan and Robert were healers and their three daughters too young to defend themselves. Percival was terrified they would be hurt because of him.

Newt’s brother was one of the most well known Aurors in Britain. He was a respected war hero and their father was also an Auror, trained to fight dark wizards. Even his mother was used to dealing with danger, training her Hippogriffs into calm beasts.

It was clear when they arrived how desperately Newt missed them, sitting on the floor with his head in his mother’s lap, talking softly. Percival’s sister, mother, and father had helped him, had set him on the path to healing and now he wanted the same for Newt. He wanted the fine cracks all throughout the man to fade, so that it wouldn’t seem like Newt could shatter at any moment.

So they went to Britain, moving to a rolling mansion playing at being a house. Percival knew the Scamander was an old blood name but it was a bit startling to see it. His family was wealthy, among the top in New York, but this was a whole different level.

Aurors walked the grounds, trusted friends of Theseus. He put them up in the guest quarters, which were also massive, an entire house on its own. After some discussion, they opened an Auror training facility on the grounds, far from the house but close enough for an emergency.

It served a dual purpose for Percival to train again, slowly dueling once more.

“Not bad,” Theseus smirked, deflecting and sending his own jinx that Percival stopped. He moved a bit slower but his power had returned full strength.

“You’re going too easy,” he replied annoyed, sending something more vicious and watching the other man dance away from it with a laugh.

Aurors did like a bit of danger.

Their wands flew through the air, back and forth.

“If I return you home run down Newt will never let me forget it!” Theseus cowed, his magic slamming against Percival’s shields. He was a truly powerful man, more challenging than those Percival had fought before everything.

It felt good.

Good to work at something, resting and reading books could only hold him for so long. Percival liked to be moving, working his body.

They traded insults and fought on, circling each other and practicing at length. Theseus might never loose the darkness in the corners of his eyes when he looked at Percival, but he wasn’t letting it hold him back from knowing him. Percival could respect that.

No matter how they dressed it up, Percival was forcing himself on Newt every night, rough hands taking without thought.

The curse would never be lifted.

Theseus never forgot that.

But he never blamed either.

“You do more good than harm,” he surmised with a shrug.

The Scamander family should have hated him. Percival had brought so much pain on Newt, had scarred him ways that would never completely heal. But his family carried no spite for him, never once blaming him. It was humbling and daunting, to take their kindness and not let himself refuse out of his own guilt.

 

Newt arched off the bed, legs spread as Percival slammed into him. They were sweat slicked and both panting, on their third round now. They always went more than once now. The first time fulfilled the curse and the rest was theirs, they fucked hard or made love gently, rolled around and explored. It was theirs and no curse could have it.

They learned about each other, courting as if they weren’t already bound together irreversibly. The would disagree, but rarely fight, it seemed foolish to get upset over anything after having survived all they had. When they did fight they quickly made up, Newt pressing his face to Percival’s neck in comfort even when it was Percival angering him. For his part, Percival still sought out Newt's heartbeat. He would press his fingers to Newt's wrist and feel his steady pulse during the day, reminding himself the shadows in the corner of his eye where nothing.

 

Newt sprang back in his childhood home, walking with Hippogriffs and working on his book again. The fragile air about him faded and he dueled with Percival and his brother, dancing gracefully as they went easy on him and eventually trying to genuinely best him. He studied his creatures and worked on his theories. The Swooping Evil eggs hatched and shortly after, much to everyone’s shock, the Niffler laid two eggs of its own.

“I thought he was male,” Newt was fascinated immediately. “I know he is a male, his phallus is right there.”

Percival shrugged, having no answers as Newt turned the Niffler over in his hands.

He’d laid his/her eggs under their bed and Newt left them there, laying on the floor to peer at the sometimes, wrapped up in their discarded pants and bits of clothing the creature had dragged over to make a nest. Apparently it was extremely rare to see their eggs and Newt now had insight as to why.

“I was so certain his horde was his nest, but it’s clearly not. They don’t seem to even need a mate!”

“How old is he?” Percival questioned, leaning over to free the Niffler from Newt’s prodding grip. He looked a touch affronted but grinned as the Niffler sat in Percival’s lap serenely, knowing Percival would save him from more poking. Newt always went a bit soppy when his creatures and Percival got along.

“Fifteen at least I think? I met him when I was a student still, he’d set up in a hole under my bed.”

“That old?” Percival sat on the bed, peering at the creature on his lap. It seemed young and spry for such a number.

“Yes. He was my first companion of sorts. The Niffler. By the time I gathered others and named them, he was just the Niffler, not a Niffler, but The Niffler.” He explained with a fond look at the little beast.

“Well, it’s something new about his kind isn’t?”

“Yes,” Newt grinned in delight. “We think we know everything and then it all changes, there’s still so much to learn about our magical creatures.”

He looked positively delighted by the idea.

 

A year after they escaped, they went out into the public eye together to attend Jacob and Queenie’s wedding. It was to be a large event, Jacob inviting everyone he’d ever met in his joy. Many Aurors and workers from MACUSA were coming as well. It would show favor for them to attend the wedding, to offer open support.

Newt disliked how No-Maj’s were treated in America and Jacob proved he was on to something. So when Newt realized influential people from America would be coming it seemed even more important to him to go. His whole family was attending of course.

Jacob had opened his bakery with Queenie and he did stunningly well. But he still found time to come out to the manor and help Newt, petting Mooncalves and bowing to Hippogriffs. When he came he brought piles of baked goods and eventually the Auror trainees found a reason to be around. Jacob took it all in stride, bringing extra and winning hearts through their stomachs. The result was that the wedding was going to be packed with Aurors and those in training, it was as safe as anyone could hope. Percival himself was slowly working through the examinations to become a licensed Auror once more.

Whenever they went anywhere, together or alone, they caught attention, papers published pictures of them doing things as mundane as shopping. The wizarding world seemed endlessly curious about the wizards who ended Gellert Grindelwald.

Both of them preferred to be left alone and Theseus took it as a personal mission to see that through, enlisting his training Aurors constantly to help.

Percival didn’t worry for himself, either in the media or for his own safety, it was Newt he wanted secure and tucked away. The other man had snorted at him for the idea.

“Theseus is bad enough, don’t you start as well,” he warned, fixing his bow tie and looking at himself in the mirror. “Do I look presentable? I’m not very good with crowds.”

“You look lovely,” Percival replied, coming up to press a kiss to Newt’s ear, resting his hands on the other man’s trim waist.

“You look rather dashing yourself,” Newt mused, leaning back and tilting his head to kiss Percival properly. Sex outside the curse was a bit new considering they had sex every twenty-four hours due to it, but Newt had decided it was important recently and his stubbornness could crumble nations. It had killed one of the worst dark wizards of their time.

“Please stop, we’re leaving soon,” Theseus huffed with distaste, leaning on the doorframe to the bedroom. Credence was behind him, the man seeming like someone completely different from the terrified boy before. Theseus had taken him in to personally train, working with the staggeringly powerful magic the young man was still learning to control. He looked embarrassed to be there, seeing them together as lovers. Percival imagined being raised by No-Maj had left him with plenty of discriminations to work through.

“Credence!” Newt smiled brightly, he’d kept in contact with the man and hurried to greet him. He took Percival with him, clutching his hand firmly. Newt wore an easy smile but as they left the house and took the carriage to the venue he never once let go of Percival’s hand.

He still startled sometimes, appearing in the doorway looking pale, eyes searching frantically until they landed on Percival. He would curl around him, fingers touching, reassuring when he woke from his nightmares.

“I’ll always look for you I think, It’s burned into me, to seek you out, to touch you. You calm everything frightening in me.” he admitted, face pressed to Percival’s neck as they laid together with the moonlight falling through the open window, carrying the crisp fresh air they both respected now.

“I’ll always be here,” Percival promised simply, meaning it to his core.

He would protect.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp, this is my dark fic for this pairing. I need to venture right back into porny fics now. I'm working on a Gramander fic with lots of bestiality involved. Also a porny A/O fic with marathon sex and impregnantion kink like whoa. Beyond those I'm not certain if I'll have much more to offer for them, I'll have to check out the kink meme for some inspiration. Also some Destiel fics almost done too. Working on a long ass one that's getting a bit stupidly long, even for me.


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